


Free Love

by QueenyMidas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Sex, BDSM, Dom/sub, Domination, First Time, Gay Bar, M/M, Oral Sex, Paddling, Rough Sex, Spanking, one night stand that becomes something more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenyMidas/pseuds/QueenyMidas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a rough break-up with Ginny Weasley, Harry finds himself in a gay bar and lonelier than ever. When Harry gets drunk enough to go home with a very special patron of the bar that he happened to have met in school, he winds up admitting all of his fantasies to Draco Malfoy. Things escalate from there. EWE, PWP, oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the one, the only, Supreet: the asshole whose RP skills were brought to me by fate and the Drarry tag, and the girl that many tumblr users ship me with (Repreet life). Happy Birthday, hon! Hope you have a great day and get all of your birthday wishes. TW for slurs and D/s. So much D/s. I don’t think I can even explain to you how kinky this is. Consensual nonconsent, cross-dressing, humiliation, spanking, paddling, and this is also a first time fic for Harry.

   Harry never thought a bartender would be judgmental towards a patron who was clearly supporting a local business with his own sickles. But there he was, receiving his third firewhiskey from a man who clearly knew him as The Savior and clearly disapproved of his drinking.

   “Fuck you,” Harry muttered as the man went to go flirt with some other patron, hiking his tank top up so that his customer in plaid could get a good view of the deep ‘v’ lines leading downwards.

   It was maybe the most stereotypical bar that Harry had ever been in, but he supposed that this was all part of the adjustment to being gay, getting used to scantily-clad men and rainbow flags everywhere. Not that he’d been straight before, he’d just… Ignored it. Ignored it and held hands with Ginny, and never snuck looks at the two men who had sat across from them in the last restaurant they’d gone to together.

   The thought of his ex made his burning gulps of firewhiskey go down even harder.

_“I can’t believe you lied to me!”_

_“Ginny, I’m sorry—I never wanted to hurt you—“_

_Her face red with embarrassment and anger, Ginny hurled the necklace Harry gave her for her birthday at him. “Fuck you. You don’t get to be the victim here, I am! I thought you loved me, I thought we would get married—“ Ginny cut herself off in a choke. She couldn’t let him see her cry._

_Harry felt his heart tear in two. There went his shot at a family, at maybe making his parents proud, at a normal life… “I’m sorry.”_

_“Leave,” she hissed, now knowing why Harry had put off sleeping with her for so long. “Don’t owl me, don’t talk to me, and stay the hell away from me, you lying bastard.”_

Harry _had_ lied, he thought miserably as he chugged down more of that mind-numbing alcohol.

   In the morning, Ron and Hermione would be furious with him as well. Ever since Hermione had married Ron she’d become near inseparable with Ginny. The sisters they always wanted, he supposed. At least somebody got their family.

   “Another,” Harry requested before slapping down silver coins onto the day-glow blue bar. The neon lights reflected off of it in a way that Harry really could only describe as ‘gay’.

   The bartender gave him a little glower. “That’s an awful lot to drink, Mr. Potter. Wouldn’t your girlfriend be upset that you’re hiding from her?”

   Ah, finally. A real reason for the bartender’s distaste. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he told him calmly. Even if he had, it wasn’t any of this twit’s business.

   “Oh?” the bartender cocked an eyebrow, his internalized anger towards closeted men fading as he saw an opportunity and leapt for it. “Then I’ll have to make sure you don’t go home alone tonight.”

   “Another drink.”

   This time, the annoying twink obeyed. He only stopped asking for Harry’s muggle phone number when the grizzly man he’d been talking with before waved his wand so that he could be served.

   Was it just the whiskey, or was that man way more attractive than he was ten minutes ago? Sure, he was on the hairy side, but maybe if Harry took both him and the bartender home, it could balance out. After all, the man behind the bar barely had hair on his head.

   Harry stopped himself right there. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Who knows what diseases those men had? And more importantly, why would they even want to spend the night with him aside from his fame?

   As always, Harry didn’t do groupies.

   He had killed an evil man, become an Auror, and gotten on with his fucking life. Sort of. Couldn’t everyone else at least try to do that?

   Finally, Harry was at the bottom of his fifth glass. He knew if he tried to stand that his legs would fail him, so camping on the barstool for a few hours seemed reasonable.

   “We’re closing up soon,” the bartender murmured to him. Had he even been there three seconds ago?

   When Harry felt his hand sliding up his arm, he yanked away suddenly, and that was when he saw it.

   The flash of a camera illuminating the bar came from a window that had a ‘lesbian roller-skating night’ poster on it. Harry cursed under his breath.

   “Harry! Harry Potter! Is it true that you’ve been sleeping with men during your entire relationship with Ginny Weasley?”

   “Could you ever even get it up with her?” another paparazzo demanded with a cackle.

   Next to him, a reporter for The Prophet let his Quick Quotes Quill fly across his parchment. “When did you realize you were a fag?”

   “You’re going to hell!”

   The onslaught of screams and shouts from outside had Harry’s heart beating out of his chest. They all knew. It was his worst nightmare come to life before his eyes.

   His throat swelled, his stomach dropped, his face reddened, and he even felt a little burning at the corner of his eyes. Pathetic. The Boy Who Lived would soon become the fag who cried at his exposure for what he truly was.

   “Freak!”

   That word crashed into something deep within him. Something covered in shame and wrapped in guilt that made his feet start moving. It took Harry a few seconds to realize he was running. Running to the back of the bar, running past two women giggling and flirting, running into the men’s bathroom…

   Harry’s hip banged right into a sink, but the pain didn’t even register. He was going to throw up. He was going to lose his guts and possibly any self-respect he’d maintained while going to this dump.

   His knuckles turned as white as the porcelain sink before he hauled himself in front of it, coughing and sputtering. “ _Fuck_.”

   “Need me to hold your hair?” a voice asked in a far-from-sincere manner.

   That was what did it.

   Harry lost his grip on the sink and he collapsed to the ground. It was disgusting and the grout between the tiles was as dark as Harry’s hair. He felt himself retch, but nothing came out. Great, so he couldn’t even throw up properly, and now some prat was watching him have a meltdown.

   “Er,” the man said quietly. Harry wished he’d go away or die or something that involved him never looking at him again. “Didn’t mean to make you cry.”

   “I’m not crying!” Harry roared back before hiding his face in his hands to make sure that he really wasn’t.

   Draco rolled his eyes. “Right, right. Need a hand up?” He supposed that he was feeling charitable that night. Pansy had gone home with some bloke and left him all on his lonesome with sex on the brain, so he may as well have seen where this path led. He’d slept with stranger men in much more trying mental states.

   That took Harry by surprise. That voice was…. Familiar. He looked to his right and saw a pale, outstretched hand. The green and silver ring on his finger gave it away, but it seemed that Malfoy—in a gay bar, that predictable ponce—hadn’t figured out who Harry was.

   He’d seen the papers. ‘ _Malfoy Heir Caught With Not One, but_ Two _Men_!’ ‘ _Draco Malfoy the New Face of Gay Nightlife_?’.

   Draco had made quite a profit off of his sexuality in successful bars and club promoting. He was a paid partier, and Harry couldn’t quite articulate how jealous of him he was. He’d rather get wasted than chase down criminals all day. Hangovers weren’t half as bad as hexes.

   “Still awake?” Draco asked, amused.

   “Um,” Harry managed. The reporters outside had stopped making such a racket, but the calm felt false. “Yeah.” With that, Harry took Draco’s hand. The metal ring was ice cold up against his skin.

   Draco yanked his hand away like Harry had the plague. “ _What_?”

   This was really not the time for rekindling old hatreds. “I don’t want to do this, Malfoy. Not tonight, and maybe not ever,” Harry said exhaustedly, the alcohol that he’d almost regurgitated taking a toll on his system. “So can you please skip the part where you tell me how pathetic I am and how right you were in school?”

   That shocked Draco even more. “What?” he asked again. He wasn’t going to insult a man he’d just scraped off of a bathroom floor, right?

   “You’re the only person’s expectations I’ve lived up to!” Harry continued with a slur, throwing his hands up in a sort of pointless fight with the air.

   “Potter,” Draco snapped. “Get a grip!”

   The sudden burst of noise was a wake-up call to Harry’s drunken senses. Now it was his turn to be confused. “What?” Was this even Malfoy, or was he having a nightmare?

   An annoyed sigh escaped Draco. “I’m not a monster,” he sneered without at all noticing the irony there. “So quit looking at me like one. What are you doing here?”

   “Drinking.”

   “I can smell that on you, yes,” Draco huffed. “I mean what are you doing _here_?”

   Harry blinked. “Hiding. There’s a swarm outside.”

   “Ah, so being the popular hero backfired.” Draco would be lying if he said that he hadn’t gotten a little joy out of seeing that. “Now I suppose you’re going to set up camp in here and never leave to face the light of day?”

   “Maybe,” Harry muttered, breaking eye contact to stare at his shoes. He felt like a stupid kid again, minus the school uniform.

   He looked almost… Cute? No, that wasn’t quite the word. Either way, it made Draco feel suspiciously guilty. “They were probably looking for me,” Draco grimaced. He couldn’t so much as have a midnight snack run without someone stalking him. Harry had played it right by becoming a hermit, Draco supposed.

   “You are pretty obvious,” Harry nodded sagely.

   Was that—was that humor? Draco laughed, as strange as it felt. “If it makes you feel any better, I only figured out you were gay in fourth year.”

   Harry laughed back. “I knew from the second I saw you, so I win.” That was definitely the firewhiskey talking. Harry hadn’t even he realized what a homo _he_ was until sixth year.

   “Was that why you didn’t take my hand?” Draco teased. “You may have avoided contracting the gay from me, but someone clearly got to you. Was it Finnigan or Thomas?”

   “Neither,” Harry shrugged. He thought it was crystal clear that he hadn’t gotten any in Hogwarts because he was too busy trying not to die. When he felt a silence creep over him, Harry—for some reason—tried to keep the conversation alive. “I think I just kind of gave it to myself.”

   Draco smirked. “But of course.” Even with his hair all ruffled and that skewed look his glasses gave him, Harry captured his attention. Something about him made Draco want to take a step closer. He’d only had one firewhiskey in him and suddenly Harry Potter was attractive?

   “Can I use the back door?” Draco probably knew the place inside-out.

   “Well,” Draco said while trying to restrain his grin. Potter had practically asked for this. “I’d at least hope you’d buy me dinner first.” Shit, was he flirting?

   When Harry realized what he’d said, he burst into embarrassed laughter and fell back to the sink, cornered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

   “It’s brazen of you. I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you to try and get with me,” Draco teased.

   “Times have changed.” Harry couldn’t believe the words as they left his mouth.

   Draco couldn’t quite believe them either. He wasn’t half as foxed as Harry was, but something made him want to reciprocate. “I guess they have,” he murmured, straightening Harry’s collar since the minute breakdown had made it wilt. “Why don’t you tell me what the new and improved Potter is like, then?”

   He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Well, this new ‘Potter’ likes being called ‘Harry’.”

   “Harry, then,” Draco tried aloud. “So long as you call me ‘Draco’. Just because I have the Manor doesn’t mean I’m too fond of my last name.”

   Some cheesy line about Harry wanting to change his last name came to mind, but thankfully he held it back. “Knowing you, you’ve revamped the place to include a bar on every floor. Maybe even a theme for each floor.”

   Draco laughed. “If only,” he grinned. “I’d absolutely love to start working on the upper floors, but so far all I’ve done is the basement.”

   “So you mean you took out the catacombs and dungeons?” Harry snarked without too much malice. Maybe his inebriation messed with his memories of the war.

   “Oh, hardly.” Draco gave him a predatory grin.

   Harry scrunched his brow. “Then what’s down there now?”

   “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he laughed before taking another step forward. He liked this ‘Harry’, this open man. If they didn’t have such a history and Harry wouldn’t obviously decline, Draco would consider showing him the basement. “It’s been my pet project for a while. Emphasis on ‘pet’.”

   “ _Oh_. So you mean, like, a…?”

   “Playroom,” Draco finished for him.

   He licked his dry lips. “Sounds like fun.” The world around Harry was spiraling, and dammit, he was going down with it.

   That tongue darting out had Draco’s eyes going wide. That—and had Harry actually suggested that he would enjoy his little sex dungeon? That was bizarre, and new, and such a turn-on that Draco couldn’t help but reach forward to fix his dark hair. “I knew it,” he whispered, enraptured. “I _knew_ it.”

   “Knew what?”

   “I used to fantasize about you back in school,” Draco said rather than explaining what it was that he ‘knew’. “How your lips would look on mine, how those legs would look in lace…”

   Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Without thinking, he leaned into Draco’s touch.

   “Tell me how many men you’ve had,” Draco murmured.

   “I haven’t.”

   Draco held back a shudder. “Then I’m sure you’ve gone wild with the thought of it,” he whispered before trailing a trimmed nail down his neck.

   With a warm blush, Harry nodded. This was insane. What about Gin—No. She’d broken up with him. Harry had no obligations to anyone, no need for fidelity, and he was on his own. This was for _him_ , and he was going all the way.

   Never mind the alcohol influencing his decision, of course.

   In a burst of what Harry would regret in the morning, he pulled Draco in for a kiss. His lips were impossibly warm, and tasted of firewhiskey. Draco didn’t waste any time before opening his mouth so that Harry could deepen the kiss.

   Harry had kissed men before, but never like this. Never with the thought of ripping his clothes off in a public bathroom and never with the knowledge that if this gorgeous, fit man told him to drop to his knees, he would.

   “Tell me,” Draco gasped suddenly, yanking Harry out of the kiss so that he could bury his hands in his hair. “Tell me everything.” He wanted to hear every in-and-out, every kink in Harry’s brain that made him squirm under the sheets next to his ickle girlfriend, and even the things he couldn’t admit to himself.

   And with a deep breath, Harry let it all pour out of him. It was a little like throwing up, but he decided he liked this better. Much, much better.

XXX

   Harry wondered absently if he had died and gone to heaven.

   The cushion he was laid out on was so wonderfully soft that the urge to open his eyes and check whether or not he was in the afterlife was nonexistent. Even the smaller one cradling his neck made him feel like he afloat on some cloud.

   “Mm,” he murmured happily, gathering up the energy to run his fingertips over the fabric surrounding him. The perfect word to describe it came to mind. It was a nest.

   A nest of warmth, where for a second he could pretend he was someone else and drift away.

   Just as he was about to drift away again, Harry realized something. One: that he wasn’t in his own home. Two: that he definitely wasn’t in that bar. And three: that there was some sort of cheese product next to him.

   Curious and disturbed, Harry tilted his head and opened his eyes. Where his glasses had gone he really couldn’t say. Before him, a plate of piping-hot eggs, French toast, cheese grits, and bacon sat. The meal was on a table, one that Harry slowly realized was a night stand. Had he really slept that well in someone else’s bed?

   Regretfully leaving the comfort of his nest, Harry sat up to check if that someone else was anywhere to be found. Instead of finding Draco, the man who had all but charmed the pants off of him the night before, he found himself alone in a pale blue room. Seashell accents lined the walls, and the bed sheets that had been charmed to look like fish swimming in the ocean of the fabric showed no evidence of being rumpled from someone sleeping next to him.

   Stranger things had happened to Harry. He grabbed the plate from the night stand to inspect it before finding a note next to the syrup packets. It was a bit hard to read without his glasses.

_Good morning, Harry._

_I hope you slept well. You’re in the Manor right now, in case you were wondering. You can apparate back to your home any time you want to. Nothing happened between us last night when I brought you here, in case you couldn’t remember. You were drunk, and I didn’t take advantage of that._

_If you’re still here and reading this, I gave you a hangover potion in advance last night. Wouldn’t want you waking up in a bad mood. Eat before you read the rest of this._

Strangely enough, Harry listened. He put the note down and picked up the ornate silver fork on the night stand. The food was delicious, and judging by the light coming in from the skylight in the middle of the room it was far past breakfast time.

   Harry wolfed down the food in record time. He was sort of thankful Draco wasn’t there to see him shoveling it down his throat while at the same time feeling absurd for even giving a shit what Draco thought about him.

   In the light of day and sobriety, Harry still somehow felt drunk.

   Harry still wanted to kiss Draco, and talk to him, and there wasn’t even a thought of going back to his lonely flat. Going down to that basement of his seemed like a veritable option, too.

   “I’m free,” Harry said quietly, conspiratorially. “I can do whatever I want.”

   No girlfriend, no lies, and his stomach was full of bacon. The downsides to that would hit him in time—loss of trust of his friends, loss of the Weasley’s support, and heart disease the bacon could possibly bring on—but now was not that time.

   Snatching the letter back up, Harry was possessed by the same feeling he’d gotten when he’d taken the Felix Felicis in his sixth year.

_If you’re still here, then you’re really in for something. I have an outfit set up for you in the closet. Put it on (and yes, I mean all of it). I had this down in the basement and it reminded me of something you said last night. Do you even remember all of that? You shared some… Interesting secrets._

_I’d like to delve into them. Get dressed and come downstairs. The new door to the basement is to the left of the front entrance. When you enter, the scene begins along with the fantasy and the punishment. After all, what kind of lowly whore goes home with a man who says he likes to keep boys locked up?_

_If you ever want it to end, snap your fingers. Otherwise, I’d love to see you squirm and tell me ‘no’._

   That last line brought back a fragment of a memory. They were in the entrance hall, and Harry had rutted the bulge in his pants up against Draco’s thigh. ‘ _I want you to take me_ ,’ he’d whispered. ‘ _And I’ll act like I don’t want it_.’

   _Fuck_ , he couldn’t believe he’d told Draco that.

   “I’m free,” Harry repeated, putting down the note. “I’m free, I’m free. Free to go, free to stay.” He didn’t know why his hands were shaking.

   Harry walked to the closet and opened the door. Half of him expected some kind of ghoul to pop out and wake him from this fever dream, but it was empty aside from a laundry bag. Carefully, Harry unzipped it.

   When it was fully unzipped, Harry’s breath hitched.

   The crimson bra and thong were barely enough to cover what would have been a woman’s body. Attached to the panties were four long garter strips that attached to a pair of nylon thigh-highs. At the bottom of the bag, there was a pair of jet-black high heels.

   After a deep, shuddery breath, Harry took the plunge.

XXX

   Draco hadn’t felt a high like this in what had to be centuries. He’d been bringing men down to his basement ever since he built the place and had even christened it with a submissive couple who’d been more than eager when they spoke with Draco at a bar.

   He’d been exhilarated then, but what surfaced in him when he looked at Harry descending the stone staircase with a wobbly gait because of the heels was entirely different.

   “Er, hello Draco,” Harry tried awkwardly, looking down at the man in his trousers and button-up shirt while he was dressed like a streetwalker. Were you supposed to greet people before you had sex with them?

   When Harry got a better look at the room, he had a hard time keeping his surprise hidden. Even though it was light outside, it seemed like an eternal night in the dungeon. Cold stone lined the walls and floor, lit by chandeliers of red candles and lines of red candles on the wall. Their wax dripped to the floor, but the candles never seemed to get any shorter. And that was just the setup.

   The furniture—if one could call half of this furniture—was like something out of Harry’s dreams.

   The staircase emptied out into a blood red parlor with a roaring fireplace and high-backed chairs. On the table that would in any other home have remotes, magazines, and knick knacks, there were rows of devices that Harry couldn’t even name if he tried. Under the table, there was a bear-skin rug that Harry had only seen in movies before.

   On the three sides of the room that weren’t occupied by stairs, there were dark mahogany doors. Harry paid the most attention to them. He was impressed with the layout of this one room, but there seemed to be more.

   Draco cocked a brow. Harry had read the note, and he would know what to do if he wanted this to stop, so why was Draco going so easy on him? “You don’t call me that down here, plaything,” Draco instructed him sweetly, walking up to inspect his prize. “Here you address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’. After all, you’re the one who wanted this.”

   Harry nodded quickly, shifting against the lacy panties. They still didn’t quite fit, and Harry wondered if that had been Draco’s intention.

   With a laugh, Draco stepped forward to dig his nails into Harry’s throat. “And you respond when I address you.” Ah, there was that dominance that Draco had been temporarily robbed of by the sight of Harry Potter in negligée.

   “Yes, Sir,” Harry sputtered out quickly as he tried to hold his ground. If Draco moved him just a centimeter backwards, he’d probably lose control of his heels and fall over.

   “Much better.” Draco released his neck and watched Harry stumble back with a sick delight. “Now turn around; I want to see your arse in this. I didn’t make you dress up like a tart to have you stand there and gawk at me.”

   Harry’s blush returned with vengeance. He knew this was all an act—Draco treating him like a piece of meat—but it made his mouth water. Slowly, he turned around.

   Draco’s teeth were only his bare shoulder in a heartbeat. He let out a surprised noise before Draco’s hand clamped around his mouth. “What the fuck did I tell you about speaking when you’re addressed?” he snapped.

   Quickly, Harry tried to apologize. When he started to speak all he got was a slap in the face. He wasn’t sure if the sting or the act itself shocked him more. Dumbfounded, he stayed silent and still.

   “So not only are you a whore who’ll go to any bloke’s house and let him have his way with you, but you’re stupid, too.”

   “No I’m not,” Harry argued. “Sir.”

   Draco laughed and kept in his possessive position behind Harry. “Then you’ll have to prove it to me. Right now, I don’t even think you’re good enough to touch me,” he said plainly before slapping Harry’s other cheek and stepping away.

   Harry spun around. “I want to, Sir. I can prove how smart I am.” No. Harry could not have come all this way for Draco not to want him.

   “Doubt it.”

   “I’ll do anything to prove it, Sir,” Harry said in a frenzy. He had to do this; he wanted to do this. “If you want me to pleasure you, I will.”

   Draco laughed again. “Do I have to remind you that you’re not good enough to touch me?” he asked. “Now turn around, and this time bend over. You might be worthless, but your arse isn’t.”

   “Yes, Sir,” Harry said, determined. He followed instructions quickly in spite of his inexperience in heels. If he spread his legs a little wider, he had a more stable stance.

   “Grab your ankles.”

   “Yes, Sir.”

   Chuckling to himself as Harry wobbled, Draco ran his finger up the fabric of the thong. When he got to the top, he yanked it back so that it came back down on Harry’s skin with a ‘snap’. “You’ll be of some use to me,” Draco decided much to Harry’s relief. He felt like he had earned this. “Now stay.”

   “Yes, Sir.”

   Draco made his way back to the mahogany boudoir on the other side of the room, opening it and searching until he found just what he wanted. He took an extra-long time just to see if Harry would try and look over his shoulder or get into a more comfortable position. Much to Draco’s delight, he stayed perfectly still.

   “Stand.”

   “Yes, Sir.”

   Draco walked to Harry and slipped the collar on over his head before tightening it. It was made of black leather that contrasted his pale skin, and at the end there was a leash attached. Draco, of course, held the leash.

   Without even giving a command, Draco walked away and tugged Harry along with him.

   Shocked, Harry tried to regain his balance and failed miserably. He wobbled after Draco in the shoes that made his ankles feel like someone had set them on fire. “Sir?” he asked a little desperately.

   “If you can’t walk properly,” Draco snapped, opening the mahogany door on the left side of the room. “Then that’s your problem. Get on your hands and knees if you can’t figure out something so simple.”

   As Harry tripped over a small rock on the floor, he knew he had to. Swallowing his pride, he dropped to his knees. “Yes, Sir.”

   Draco glanced over his shoulder. Had Harry actually done it? Oh, hell, this was hysterical. Arse up in the air, Harry was trailing behind him like a puppy who didn’t know how to walk yet. The look of determination on his face made it even funnier.

   The first room they passed through made Harry’s skin crawl. It was full of machines with dildos attached to the end of a rod, and they all seemed to pump faster as Harry crawled by. Some machines looked like they had restraints attached to them, and one was placed next to a steel cage. The fear in his eyes was obvious.

   Draco knew better than to put Harry on one, though. They passed through that room while Harry’s nylon thigh-highs took a beating from being dragged around so much.

   The next room Draco dragged him through made Harry shudder.

   There were chains hanging down from the walls at all angles along with ropes and more. Harry tried to imagine himself in the bonds before realizing that if he was in any of them, his feet wouldn’t be touching the ground. A shelf of riding crops and canes made the thought even more sinister.

   “Keep up,” Draco demanded, even though he was enjoying Harry’s every reaction. He’d purposefully taken the long way.

   “Yes, Sir.”

   After passing another room full of strange wooden contraptions, Draco finally led him to the room he’d been looking for. He had been sure to make the route there confusing for his own pleasure.

   “Stand,” Draco demanded.

   “Yes, Sir.” Harry looked around the candlelit room and was relieved. This one had a pallet bed in the middle and if you overlooked the numerous devices on the walls, it could have been sort of normal looking.

   Draco let him feel safe before using his wand to bring the chains down from the ceiling. Harry gulped. “You think this is all fun and games when you touch yourself at night?” Draco asked. “Do you imagine there being real pain, or are you too scared?”

   “No, Sir,” Harry murmured as Draco dragged him to the mattress and flung him down onto it.

   “Then why are you shaking like a little bitch?”

   Harry hadn’t even known he was shaking. “Excitement, Sir,” he countered.

   Luckily, that made Draco laugh. “Good.” Draco looked down at his disheveled beauty and saw a hand mark forming where he had slapped him. Draco continued his inspection down until he got to Harry’s knees. “You ripped the clothes I gave you.”

   “Sorry, Sir, it was the floor—“

   “I don’t want excuses,” Draco snarled. “Get on your hands and knees again. You’ll keep them, but I want those pretty panties off.”

   Harry had never felt as self-conscious as when he moved the strip of red fabric off of his arse and over his high heels. “Yes, Sir.”

   Draco snatched them up immediately. “And you leaked on these,” he laughed. “Were you thinking about me when you put them on?”

   “Yes, Sir,” Harry murmured. He’d thought of Draco making him wear knickers every day.

   “You’re so slutty for it, aren’t you?” Draco asked with a grin. “ _Could_ you even get it up for Ginevra?”

   Fuck. So Draco had heard what the paparazzi were yelling.

   Draco’s leather boot came down on his back. “Fail to address me one more time, and I won’t even let you come.”

   “I couldn’t, Sir,” Harry blurted out, his embarrassment bubbling to the top. “I never could.”

   Laughter rang against the dungeon walls. “That’s fucking pathetic. Wait—so that makes you…? Holy shit. You’re a _virgin_. You’re a virgin and the first fuck you want is from some arse that treated you like shit in school.”

   Remembering what Draco had said about not letting him come, Harry responded. “Yes, Sir.” Merlin, this was humiliating.

   “That,” Draco said before the chains slowly crawled to link around Harry’s arms and wrists. “Is fucking pathetic. It’s like you’re destined to be my whore. Maybe I’ll keep you down here, play with you when I want…” Draco took a paddle from the wall and gave it a little spin. “Keep you to serve me. Wouldn’t you like that?”

   “Yes, Sir.”

   “Knew it.” Draco took a small string of beads off of the wall, too. “You’d really be the perfect addition to all of this. You could clean the house, make my food, and entertain guests.” The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck prickled. “Oh, yes. I love showing off my toys to my friends. I’ll dress you up like the whore you are and fuck you right in front of them if I wanted to. And if you failed to follow instructions, I’d bend you over my knee in front of them, too. You’re mine now.”

   “Yes, Sir.”

   Finally, Draco walked back to Harry and yanked the chains tighter. It kept him somewhere incredibly uncomfortable between lying down and kneeling, his arse in the air while his face was pressed into the mattress. The fabric of the bra against his nipples made him want to rut into it.

   “Have you ever fingered yourself before?” Draco asked.

   “Yes, Sir. Lots,” Harry said. He wanted to tell him everything all over again like he had the night before. It had taken him a moment to realize it, but this was the fantasy he’d described to Draco in the front hall. Draco was playing it out for him perfectly, too. “I think about men like my Master fucking me.”

   Harry’s sudden articulation had Draco ecstatic. “That’s right, I am your master,” he murmured as he picked up the bottle of lube from beside the bed. Draco dipped the plug in before magically adjusting its size. Carefully, he prodded a lubricated finger against Harry’s hole. “And I’ll be the first man ever inside you tonight.”

   Harry whimpered. “Sir, it’s not going to fit.”

   “Then I’ll make it fit. You’re assuming that I give a fuck if I tear you apart, which I honestly don’t.” Draco shoved the finger inside.

   “Sir!” Harry shouted, but it didn’t hurt too awfully. He’d been able to get three in one time. He would have just liked a little warning, was all.

   “You’ve made two infractions today,” Draco told him as he shoved the finger in deeper. “You didn’t respond when spoken to twice. You’ll have two punishments for that, and a punishment for being such a dirty slut and coming down here in the first place.”

   “I deserve it, Sir.”

   The gratitude was greatly appreciated. Somebody had to keep Harry in line, and it was a tough job Draco was willing to take on. His arse looked magnificent spread out in front of Draco knowing it was his for the taking. Harry had given it up so _easily_.

   A second finger entered Harry and he screwed his eyes shut. “You’re so tight,” Draco whispered. He had been expecting that, but there was a difference between expecting and feeling. What he could feel were the walls close around his fingers, hot and taut. Imagining his cock in Harry was dizzying.

   “Thank you, Sir,” Harry laughed breathlessly. Was he actually supposed to respond to everything? He had to safe, just in case.

   When Harry was finally, Draco pushed in the first bead. With a grunt, Harry closed around it and took it in him.

   “What’s that?” he asked nervously, feeling like more was to come. “Sir.”

   “Just a toy of mine,” he murmured before pushing the next bead in. It was larger than the first, but nothing compared to what was at the end of the string. “I have to get you ready.”

   Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d never kept his fingers in for long, and now he was really feeling the stretch.

   “Today,” Draco continued. “We’re going to get the first five in. When I’m done with you, all ten will fit.” The beads increased in size, and the last one made even Draco’s stomach flip.

   The third bead took more lubricant, but Draco got it inside of him anyway. The first bead was pressed right up against… Something. Something that made Harry want to push back onto Draco’s advances. Whatever it was almost begged to be touched, and Harry just knew that doing so would send a jolt straight to his cock.

   “So tight,” Draco murmured as the fourth went in. He watched Harry’s hole swallow it before sealing shut again.

   Now the first bead was right up against that _thing_. Experimentally, Harry rocked his hips back onto it and let out a quiet moan. So this was what was enjoyable about this. If someone had told him that earlier—fuck, yes, he wanted to push against it harder, faster—he would have never stayed with Ginny.

   Harry didn’t want to think of Ginny now. He pushed her from his mind and focused only on the moment. The sweat on his palms, Draco’s hand holding his hips steady, the biting metal around his ankles…

   Draco coated the fifth bead in lubricant before actually giving Harry a head’s up. “Grip onto the chains and squeeze there. I want all your tension there so you can relax.”

   “Yes, Sir.” Harry’s hands closed around the cold metal and clamped down as he felt the curve of the bead push up against his stubborn hole before it finally stretched outward to take some of it in. “ _Fuck_.” The crown of it wasn’t even in yet and Harry felt faint.

   Draco hadn’t been kidding about making it fit. The bead entered him slowly through the force of Draco’s own will, and Harry bit his lip to keep from yelling out in pain. Halfway through, Draco stopped. Breathing heavy, he smiled down at his handy work. “You do the rest. Take it in.”

   Harry let out a pathetic whine. “I can’t, Sir.”

   “Yes you can. Relax and it’ll all go into place.”

   Screwing his eyes shut, Harry tried. The first attempts made him shudder and gasp, and some of the bead had actually come out in the process. He heard Draco stand and begin to walk. What if he was walking away?

   Harry gritted his teeth and let his sphincter go limp while his knuckles turned white. He had to do this. He had to prove himself to Draco and to everyone and to himself. Clenching his core, he felt it start to slide back in. It was torturously slow, and when the thickest point of the bead came, Harry let out a mangled cry.

   “Yes,” Draco said in a hushed tone, his hands busy unbuttoning his white shirt. Harry writhed and struggled in the chains beneath him and made his already hard cock throb through his trousers. Those had to go, too.

   Finally, the bead settled into place. “Master,” Harry shuddered out, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. The stretching had gone from burning to wildfire. He’d heard about women bleeding their first time, and he wondered if that was also true of men.

   Draco took him by surprise when he stepped out in front of him naked. It was a momentary distraction to drink in his body before Harry’s eyes centered on his cock. With a swollen vein running up the side, it was probably bigger than any of those beads. That was when the pain returned to him.

   “Poor thing,” Draco teased, not meaning a word of it. “Scared of how big I am. That wasn’t even your first punishment, you know. It’s just preparation.”

   Harry couldn’t actually believe what he was hearing. “If that’s supposed to be going easy on me, then what’s the punishment, Sir?” he asked, horrified.

   “Your first is for not using your mouth. So, fittingly, I’m going to show you all the things you can do with that mouth.” Taking a seat in front of the helpless man, Draco buried his fingers in his hair. “And if you as much as think about using your teeth, I’ll leave you here until tomorrow.” That would teach him some manners.

   “Sir,” Harry said quietly, struggling against his chains. “I’ve never—“

   “Oh, I know. Now open up.”

   The last thing that Harry wanted to be was bad at this, but he supposed he’d never know unless he made an attempt. “Yes, Sir,” he said before making a little ‘o’ shape with his mouth.

   Draco laughed as he guided his cockhead towards Harry’s mouth. He would need to open up wider than that. “Suck on the tip,” Draco instructed him. He’d give him easy things to start out with.

   “Yes, Sir.” Harry carefully closed his lips around the head. He nearly melted at the heavenly taste of his skin and it made him wish he could get a better grip on Draco’s cock.

   Watching Harry’s fingers strain inward from the shackles left Draco unable to resist thrusting up into Harry’s mouth. “Eager little slut. Now stay still while I fuck your mouth.” The hands in Harry’s hair dragged him downwards, forcing the length in his mouth.

   Surprised, Harry gagged around his mouthful and tried to pull away. Luckily, Draco was at a much better angle than he was strength-wise.

   “You should be fucking grateful I’m letting you suck my cock. Open wider and cover your damn teeth,” Draco snapped.

   Without any means of arguing, all Harry could do was comply. He covered his teeth with his lips as best as he could and let his neck go limp just like he had his arse earlier. Now he was nothing more than Draco’s fucktoy.

   The bobs were slow at first, with Draco guiding him halfway down the shaft and yanking him back up. Draco was focused enough on Harry’s mouth that Harry could rut back against the beads inside of him without being too self-conscious.

   Filled from both ends, Harry moved with Draco’s every touch. Another moan escaped him, this time around Draco’s length. “Yes,” Draco panted before pushing him down even further.

   Harry almost choked. “Ungf,” he tried to protest.

   “Shut up,” Draco ordered before pushing him all the way down. When the head of Draco’s prick hit the back of Harry’s throat, he groaned savagely. “This is what you get. Remember that the next time you fucking _ignore_ me.”

   Spit coated Harry’s lips as he enveloped Draco’s heat again and again. He gagged with each thrust of his head down until his lips touched the base of Draco’s cock. “Merfcy,” Harry begged as Draco disappeared into his mouth.

   Draco didn’t hear any snaps of his fingers, so he pushed up, up, up. Heat pooled in his stomach and his toes curled under. It happened too fast for Draco to even realize it, but he was coming in seconds. The shock ripped through him like a bolt of lightning before he emptied himself into Harry.

   It tasted bitter, and salty, and strange. Harry coughed before accidentally swallowing some and looking up at Draco pleadingly. “Swallow all of it and properly thank me,” he said imperiously. “My come is worth more than you’ll ever be.”

   Face redder than ever, Harry swallowed. It slid down his throat and made him feel sick, but he managed to keep it down.

   “Good boy,” Draco murmured before sliding his cock out of Harry’s mouth. He’d fucked The Boy Who Lived. Draco had fucked him and didn’t want to stop.

   The praise made Harry’s skin tingle. “Thank you, Sir.”

   Draco’s knees were weak when he stood in the best way possible. “Now,” he said after a deep breath. “Your second punishment.”

   It was only a third of the way done, a cruel yet exciting reminder that Harry had more to come.

   Harry wasn’t even thinking about how Draco was his first or anything about the relative morality of all of this. Draco had wiped his thoughts clean somehow.

   “What is it, Sir?” Harry was ready.

   “Another little treat you told me about last night. I would have never guessed that you’d like the idea of being spanked so much, but it was practically all you could talk about last night.”

   Harry’s eyes darted to look at the ground. He hadn’t remembered that, but it was probably true.

   “You’ve forgotten,” Draco laughed when he saw Harry’s face. “So why don’t you tell me again? Tell me how bad you want me to spank you.”

   Draco’s words went straight to Harry’s cock. “I want you to, Sir.”

   “Because?”

   “Because…” This was something Harry had only dreamt about saying. “I deserve to be punished, Sir. I’ve been bad and you need to punish me.”

   “Exactly,” he agreed before fetching the paddle he’d picked out earlier.

   Once more without warning, Draco brought it down on Harry’s arse cheek.

   Harry jumped and let out a yelp before realizing the chains were keeping him right there. “ _Sir_.”

   “Yes, pet?”

   “Hurts, Sir,” Harry mumbled.

   Draco gave him another sharp spank where his thighs met his arse that made Harry swallow his words. “It hurts and you still want it,” he mused. “What does that make you, then?”

   “I don’t know,” he managed before another spank set a stripe of fire across his arse. “Sir.”

   “It makes you a slut. Now say it.” Draco gave him another hard spank and watched as Harry tried to squirm away from the blows to no avail. Between his legs, Draco could see that he was hard anyway.

   When Harry hesitated, Draco brought the paddle down harder. The edge of it thwacked against Harry’s hipbone, ripping a keen out of him. “I’m a slut,” Harry managed in spite of the pain that hadn’t even subsided from the other spanks. “I’m a slut, Sir.”

   Not quite satisfied, Draco dropped the paddle to the stone floor. Kneeling behind Harry, he brought his hand down to make an angry red mark, and he didn’t stop there. He spanked Harry in rapid-fire, dousing his arse in a flurry of pain. “Say it!”

   “I’m a slut, Sir,” Harry whimpered into the mattress. The beads in his arse shook with every blow he took, making them crash against that spot over and over. “I’m a dirty slut!”

   Even Draco’s hand stung after the next bout of spanks and Harry’s arse rippled with each one. Only when Harry’s arse was beaten red from every angle did Draco stop.

   He took a step back to admire his handiwork. Harry was covered in stripes of red and pink that looked like they would leave bruises. Good. That was what Draco had wanted. There were growing marks around his ankles and wrists where the chains kept him bound, too.

   “Gorgeous,” Draco breathed without intending to.

   Harry—that bastard—laughed. “Thank you, Sir. I think I’m ready for my third punishment.”

   “Are you?” he asked, amused. “Where do you get that resilience from?”

   “Oh, the normal stuff, Sir. Having been through war and facing death.”

   “You’re a snarky little fuck; do you know that?”

   Harry nodded. “I do, Sir.”

   It struck Draco finally that Harry had been the first to bring up the war. The welled-up apology should have been spilling out of him, but it wasn’t. Instead, Draco was watching Harry’s ragged breathing while the anal beads stretched him open for Draco to fuck raw.

   Draco’s silence worried Harry. Had he said something wrong? “Sir?”

   “Just thinking,” Draco muttered, as if he actually had to explain himself to one of his subs. “Now stick that arse back up unless you want another spanking.” Harry did as he was told.

   Slowly, Draco’s fist closed around the largest bead at the end of the string.

   “Hold on tight.”

   Obediently, Harry clung to the chains again. “Yes, Sir.” The beads exited him one by one, each easier than the last. When they were finally out, Harry still felt… Open. He tried to adjust to the sensation, but Draco’s lubricated fingers quickly occupied the empty space.

   “Relax.” Draco’s commands had softened. Maybe he’d felt the way Harry had been shaking when he asked if he’d ever been with a man before. Harry tried to relax and shove away his fears, as stupid as they were. He was able to take some paddling but scared of the sex he was supposed to be having in his twenties.

   “Yes, Sir.”

   The head of Draco’s prick nudged against the hole that his fingers filled. Harry bit down, his teeth coming together with a hard ‘clank’ when Draco’s fingers scissored open to allow his rehardened cock entrance.

   “Yes, stay still, Harry—“ Draco pushed deeper in to that impossible heat, having to restrain himself from shoving all the way in.

   Harry, on the other hand, was in a world of pressure. It hadn’t been a stabbing pain like he had expected, but it hurt nonetheless. He shuddered when Draco pulled back only to push inside him once more.

   While Draco was on cloud nine, he could look down and see Harry straining to get through it. For once, he wanted to focus on his pleasure for a little white. Draco thrust forward to what he hoped was the spot that Harry had been not-so-discreetly rutting up against earlier.

   “ _Oh_ ,” Harry said, a burst of sensation covering his lower half. “That’s, erm. That’s good, Sir.”

   Draco rolled his hips again, making sure to drag over that spot. “Harry,” he growled. Draco knew he wasn’t going to last long, but he had to make this happen for Harry.

   He quickly reached under the chains and pumped at Harry’s cock, much to the other man’s surprise. A moan slipped out of his mouth as Draco’s gentle rocks continued. “Master,” he quivered, trying to keep his knees from buckling in. The gratefulness was evident in his voice, and there was nothing Draco liked more than being appreciated.

   _Finally_ , Harry thought. He’d been throbbing and needy since the moment he’d put on the lingerie, and that bra fastened tight around his chest still made him ache for more.

   When Draco added the extra friction, it did it for the both of them. Draco quickly pulled out to come on the mattress while something extraordinary happened to Harry.

   It was as if all that work had finally, finally paid off. Every muscle in his body relaxed when he finally collapsed. It didn’t matter how sticky or sweaty or ridiculous it all was, he was relieved. Harry was at peace. Maybe this was what he’d needed all along. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Sir.”

   Draco waved his wands so that the chains unlatched and disappeared before lying down next to Harry. He wasn’t sure how far he could push the boundary of intimacy, but he knew how important it was to reassure Harry that the fantasy was the fantasy, and nothing more. Draco wasn’t actually going to keep him in a dungeon. “You don’t have to call me that now.”

   Harry lay flat on his stomach before kicking off his shoes. “Pity,” Harry grinned. “It seemed you were pretty warmed-up to it.”

   “Yeah,” he laughed before putting an experimental hand in Harry’s hair. Immediately, the Gryffindor nuzzled up to greet his hand. This was… New. Exciting. “You’re going to not want to sit down for a long while.”

   A laugh racked Harry’s bruised body. “I figured I wouldn’t want to, but that’s why you’re here.”

   “Oh? And what am I supposed to do?”

   “You fuck me, you feed me,” Harry decided. It would be his new rule.

   Draco laughed with him. That was really endearing, that ridiculous smile of his. “I’m too tired to cook. We’ll order in.”

   “Chinese food,” Harry said before Draco could even put up an argument for anything else. He had already gotten one thing he wanted that day, so Harry considered himself on a winning streak.

   “Sure,” Draco shrugged. He wasn’t having any particularly strong craving except for the one he was already satisfying by curling up close to Harry.

   “Draco?”

   “Yeah?”

   “I don’t know,” he murmured. “Just… You’re different from the way you were in school.”

   “One would hope,” Draco scoffed. He’d been everything from a menacing bully to a lost, sniveling child in school.

   “That, and you have a very impressive sex dungeon. How many rooms are here?”

   Draco laughed and brushed his lips over Harry’s shoulder. “Twenty. Four rows of five, each room with a theme, style, and kink. It’s my baby.”

   “Most people don’t have sex in their ‘baby’,” Harry laughed.

   “Most people don’t follow strange men who say they’ve got expansive basements.”

   “Touché.”

   “Alright,” Draco said, sitting up. “I’ll order the food. Think you can make it up the stairs?”

   Harry shook his head coyly. “You may have to carry me,” he joked.

   Just to show Harry where that would get him, Draco bent down and scooped him up, tossing him over his shoulder.

   “Hey!”

   “You said I should carry you,” Draco said before walking back out of the dungeon with Harry keeping a death grip onto Draco’s back. The last thing he needed was to fall on his arse after all of that.

   “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Harry laughed. “You’re a bit of a nutter, has anyone ever told you that?”

   “Tomorrow’s Daily Prophet reads: Harry Potter Gay, and Enjoys Calling the Kettle Black.”

   Harry rolled his eyes fondly. “Screw you.”

   “You can do that,” Draco told him as they ascended the stairs. “After you feel you can properly stand again.”

   “Oh, _yes Sir_.”


End file.
